Right Here, Right Now
by Neva
Summary: Set after UXM #413. Written for Andraste and to silence a plot bunny or ten. When her worst fear strikes close to home, a young mother seeks reassurance and gets something of a wake-up call.


A/N: This story was inspired by Uncanny X-Men #413, but may play with canon events a little bit, since I missed the issue that came after. Dealing with normal humans' reactions to the mutants close to them is not a new thing for me; it's the theme of the Wallglass Saga and figures into "Blinded By the Light." But that's only because it's never stopped intriguing me.

Disclaimer: The X-Men and all related characters belong to Marvel Comics.

Dedication: A humble offering for Andraste.

**

Not for the first time, I want to rub my eyes and take another look. 

I want to close them and pretend it's not happening.

I want to run back the way I came and get as far away from this place as possible. Alex or no Alex, I never should have come here.

_You stupid woman, _a voice inside me hisses._ Leaving isn't going to change the fact that your kid's a mutant._

I'm not one myself. I can't read minds, and I can't make toys fly around the room, and I can't bend steel bars with my bare hands. Right now, I'm the only one inside the Xavier Institute who can't do _something_. Whatever I might be training myself to feel whenever that fish-scaled girl steps into my line of sight in the hallway, or Xavier answers someone's thoughts out loud… or now that Carter is saying, "Watch this, Mommy!" and sends an entire platoon of his toy soldiers zooming across the room… whatever I'm trying to train myself to feel, the whole situation can't not make a girl feel a little vulnerable.

He wrings his hands out like there's water on them. The toys drop to the ground. "Isn't that cool?" he asks. "Mommy?"

I don't answer. What am I supposed to say?

He asks if I'm okay.

God, I'm so lucky to have him. No matter what he is. Must remember that. He's pretty much the one good thing to come out of what bumps my coming here in the first place down to the _second_ stupidest thing I've ever done. "I'm fine." I undo my hair, clasp it back again. Must not panic. Must not let him know how much I want to run. Must try not to want to run. I love him. He's my son. I love him. "Honey?"

"Yeah?"

But he's not just my son. He's Trevor's. And if I can watch him grow into my crazy ex-boyfriend's face without feeling those hands squeezing around my neck, that means something, right? All that "bad blood will out" stuff is just a myth, right? "It's time we talked a little. How long have you been able to do this?" I'm still frozen where I sit.

"Since just before we came here. I wanted a book from the shelf, and I was all the way across the room, and it just flew to me. And then, you know, all the other books did, too. And I was kinda scared, but it was also really cool. And then you knocked, and they all dropped to the ground."

I remember scolding him for the mess, then waking up in the middle of the night and wondering if _maybe_… then dismissing the idea as silly. "Do you know what it means?" I ask him. _Don't scare him, Annie_, I caution myself. _Please watch what you say, you _don't_ want to scare him._

"I guess it means I'm a mutant."

"That's right." He doesn't know what it means. _Well, of course he doesn't._ Carter was four when he started asking where his daddy was. I always told him — and myself — that I'd explain it to him when he was older. Putting off college and nursing school just to give him at least one familiar face to imprint on, to take care of him and to convince myself that the boogeyman wasn't going to come steal him away in the middle of the night. To grow to love him and wonder how I could possibly even think about giving him up, _ever_, safety be damned.

But he's in fifth grade now. I have these crazy thoughts like maybe this is a wakeup call, like maybe I can't keep him innocent forever. I've never been religious, but if I were, I'd pray for nothing if not a little more time.

"I know you don't like mutants," he says.

That one floors me almost as much as when I saw the picture of Scott and Alex in the paper, or when I walked into the room just now. I've always tried to be fair to Carter, to give him the benefit of the doubt, to keep my prejudices away from him as my own parents never did for me.

"I thought… I thought maybe that's why you left Daddy," he continues. "'Cause he was one, and he hurt you."

He's speaking of Trevor in the past tense. Let's please keep it that way. "He wasn't a mutant," I say. "I grew up hating them." The word slips out before I can control them, and if I could cut out my tongue, right here, right now, I would. Carter looks like he's about to cry. The toys rise up off the floor again. The soldiers look like they're poised to attack me. "But" — deep breath — "You know I don't hate _you_, right?" And it's true. I can't even trust my own decisions, it seems, but I can trust that.

"I don't know." The soldiers fall back to the floor. "You asked Paige if she was dangerous, Mommy. Not 'cause she looked like she was, but 'cause you knew she wasn't like you. Do you think I'm dangerous, too?" Now he's crying. "If I could be the way I was again, I would."

And his tears cause whatever resolve I had to melt away. Just like always. I open my arms, wrap them around him, and he feels and smells just the same. The first time I ever held him like this…I think that was when I realized that giving him up wouldn't be an option. Ever. "It doesn't matter," I say. "I love you." It's what he wants and needs to hear, and right here, right now, it's true. Making sure it stays true will be entirely up to me, and suddenly it doesn't seem as difficult as I thought it would be. I squeeze him tight and release him. "There's someone I have to talk to," I whisper. "It can wait until later, if you want me here, but…"

He sniffles. "I'm okay. I'm really sorry I didn't tell you, though."

"I won't be scared of you if you're not scared of me," is all I can think to say, and I plant a kiss on top of his head.

**

"I guess you've all been wondering why I hate mutants to much," I tell Professor Xavier. Yes, he still gives me the creeps, but he's the only one here who's been more than barely civil to me on my first day. The only one who seems to have the slightest idea of what it means to be the only "normal" one in this sea of abnormality. And really, who else am I going to turn to?

He stares at me across his desk, almost as if… _Oh, God, he's not_, I think, and then I wonder how to ask without sounding paranoid. The only rules I've ever known for dealing with telepaths are variants of, _Bash'em in the head first, ask questions later_. And something tells me that that's not the best way to start my new job. Just when I'm absolutely convinced that even if he's not reading my mind, he's keeping quiet purely for the purpose of making the stupid self-centered human lady uncomfortable, he says, "Well, actually, I can attest to the fact that Miss Guthrie is slightly curious and Mr. Drake is convinced that you believe everything that the media tells you. And I'm afraid Stacy doesn't much care one way or another."

"I kind of got that impression."

"But the others who know are taking it in stride. We value privacy a great deal here."

"Kind of a strange philosophy for a school run by a mind-reader."

He smiles then. I don't yet trust myself to smile back. "I include myself in that particular 'we.' What the public doesn't realize is that just because we _can_ doesn't mean we _do_."

"It's the kind of thing I try to tell myself," is what I do say. "If I don't believe that people are equal, how am I going to believe that they're all equally in need of help?"

"Well put."

"Thank you." Then I just blurt it out. "My son — Carter — is eleven years old. He really likes it here so far. And he's a mutant."

Xavier just looks at me again.

"I just found out. He can move things with his mind. I think he thinks I hate him." I feel like I'm begging, crawling, all of a sudden. I wonder if Xavier has this effect on everybody, or all regular humans, or all people who come into his office without any _idea_ what to do. Or if it's just me.

"Then you have to make it clear to him that you don't."

"I've already told him that."

"You have to learn not to cringe when you see him using his ability," the professor says sharply. "I don't think any less of you because it's something that you must teach yourself to do. This is always hardest on the parents, and I make sure that each of them knows that. But you must do it. And if you even think of abandoning him here, I'll telepathically force you to stay. He needs you."

I'm speechless. Back in the day, any mutant who made that kind of threat would be signing his own death sentence. "I wasn't planning on leaving," I lie.

If he _knows_ it was a lie, he doesn't acknowledge it. "I didn't say I thought it would come to that."

"I value my privacy too," I say. "That's why I didn't want you in my head when I got here today."

"I understand. Even my students need time to get used to that."

"Do they all?" Curiosity killed the cat and so forth, but suddenly I need to know.

His feathers remain unruffled. Can't help but respect him for that. "They accept it at the very least. I've lived with my gift long enough, and watched enough different people react to it, to know that the only thing I can do is let them know that they can trust me."

"And the only thing I can do is let you know that I'll do my best. I do want this job." I don't even want to try to explain about Alex, who, right now, seems the least of my problems. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Knew what?"

"About Carter. That's why you invited me to stay here."

"I had my suspicions." At my immediately defensive look, "That's all they were, Annie. I promise. But we're in agreement that he's the reason that you _must_ stay here, exposes to what you can't understand, until your love for him is enough."

All the positive feelings I've been having about him vanish. "My love for him has always been enough." I try but can't quite manage to keep the anger out of my voice. "That's not the issue." He offers no apology. "But I think this is going to be good for us anyway. He needs other people like himself, and I need… what you said."

"So you _were_ thinking of leaving."

I stare at the floor for a second, then meet his eyes, then nod.

On my way back to Carter's new room, I suddenly remember why I wanted to talk to Professor Xavier in the first place. I wanted to justify the nervousness I felt whenever I was in a mutant's presence. To tell him the story of a young woman with dreams of helping people, who started dating an anti-mutant radical and was, in the process, filled with stories of what the freaks could do to her if she wasn't careful. Who had been raised to hate and fear those same freaks by her well-meaning but closed-minded parents. Who remembered news reports of helmeted terrorists becoming masters of their own islands, of psychics swaying the government to their own ends, of vengeful students using their powers to strike back at the bullies who'd taunted them. Who started to believe that her blessedly human boyfriend was the only one who could keep her safe, even when he started getting violent. Who finally got the courage to run away after he tried to choke her for asking what he would do if their unborn child turned out to be a mutant.

After all this time, I'm haunted by the power of Trevor's hatred. Confused and lonely at first, I was desperate to blame someone, anyone, for the way he treated me. Surely there must be something wrong with mutants if their mere existence could make someone so crazy… right?

I meant to tell Xavier all this. But somewhere during our conversation, my attempt to justify myself flew away from me, and now I realize that I never really needed it. He had no deep desire to know why most of the student body and some of the staff makes me want to run in the other direction. Because he's made it clear that what he offers, in the end, is acceptance. All he asks is the same thing in return.

It's not the kind of offer you get every day. I know that much.

And it's an offer I plan to accept.

Right now, though, I need to go back and see Carter. I remember that the first time I ever held him, it was with the promise to always be there for him, no matter what. I need to start keeping that promise, right here, right now. And I need to tell him something that I wasn't sure of before: that it's going to be all right.


End file.
